Late Night Conversations

I woke up with a start, reaching down to the floor next to my bed for the beeper. Only it wasn't there. It was still pitch black out, so I figured it wasn't the alarm clock. Normally, when I am not on call I sleep like a rock. If I am not on call, the sheer pleasure of knowing they can't hurt me is almost beyond description, and I sleep with an inner peace usually found only in young children. But this night it wasn't the beeper or the clock, so what was it?

The answer came in a shifting of weight on the end of the bed and a soft rustling of robes and leathery flesh. I came fully awake, feeling that now familiar pressure, displaced atmosphere.

"Hey, I'm off tonight. You need something, call the answering service, just like everyone else."

The rasping laugh, again a shifting of weight. "I have no days off.... Even now I will soon be at work".

"Yeah, well, don't let me keep you." For a moment, I wondered at my calm responses. Did I no longer fear death incarnate? Maybe it was true. Maybe I had been at the Critical Care business so long that I felt the Angel was more an annoying colleague than my mortal enemy.

It seemed to stand up. "We both do our part, in the end someone must guide them from this life to the next."

"Sometimes, my friend, but timing is everything. Sometimes you come too soon, and then the battle is on."

"Sooner, later, does it matter so much? In the end they are all mine. Their time on earth is so brief anyway."

"Well, you know, short but intense."

I lay back, settling my head comfortably on the pillows. "I gotta sleep, Buddy. We can discuss philosophy another night. And next time skip the Grim Reaper bit on the end of the bed. Use the beeper."

The presence faded and disappeared.

Ars longa. Vita brevis. I had it straight from the Angel's mouth.